Bring Me To Life
by AconitumLuparia
Summary: She couldn't help but feel like she should have known better. Really. She should have known that something would happen. She could have read the remnants of her coffee, could have seen it in the stars last night, or some bullshit like that. It was ridiculous, of course, no one in their right mind would ever assume they'd walk straight into a robbery.


Happy Tomione Smut Fest bitches!

This is a Muggle AU. The prompt I choose was the Kidnapping-hostage Au one, so it stands to reason that this fic might contain some triggers for some people. Please, tread carefully.

Alright so, for this to work I had to twist Hermione's character just a little bit, she might sound ooc sometimes, but with this trope, I had to change her views, so the smut could make sense and not be non/dub-con.

Also, this is my first attempt at smut and I'm kinda scared to know what you think, let me know!

Hopefully, you'll like it.

I dedicate this to my wonderful beta-reader, weestarmeggie for being amazing and making me do this lmfao. Love you so much.  
And to AriGoddessOfNight for the continuous support.

-*v*-

Bring Me To Life

-*v*-

It had been a pretty regular morning. She had woken up early, had her black coffee, rearranged the papers she had to bring to her lesson later that afternoon and decided she had some spare time to head to the bank straight away.

The thought made her stomach clench with unease, she was - anxiously - waiting for the approval of a loan she had requested. Her high school teacher's income was not at all enough if she wanted to move out of her ugly apartment.

And she really wanted to move out.

It was an old and small place, the only kind one could afford as a student, and it was full of memories of a relationship she desperately wanted to let go of. The reminder of that particular failure didn't sit well with her and she firmly believed she could change her life for the better simply by changing her home.

Alas, money was tight and she had to swallow her pride and ask for help. There was a small - minuscule - part of her that believed it all futile. She knew, deep down, that she could provide no insurance to the bank, her job was as precarious as they came and despite the fact that she loved it dearly, she knew it wasn't enough - in any sense.

It pained her, greatly. In her most difficult nights, she cried and screamed into her cushion because she simply wished it was all different. Her criminology class was one of the most interesting in the whole university, her students said. Still, she was simply a bonus teacher - disposable, and it wasn't fair because she worked just as hard as the others. She pulled all-nighters every now and again. She lectured students for hours, keeping them engaged as if she were talking about their favourite thing in the world. She was good. She was intelligent and kind and firm when it was necessary.

But she was no one. Without a name to backup your actions, in this world, you were considered less than nothing. Everything she did was expected, required even - if she wanted to survive - but it wasn't rewarded.  
Had a Black, or a Malfoy accomplished everything that she did they would have been showered with compliments, rewards, job offers, money.  
It was unfair and it hurt, but it was real.  
She couldn't stop fighting, couldn't give up even if she hated it with all her being.

As she straightened her clothes in front of the mirror, she couldn't help but feel like she was just preparing herself for a huge disappointment. Outside her window, a raven watched her curiously.

-*v*-

She had never expected it to happen. Not to her, at least.

After all, it wasn't as if anything exciting ever happened in her life. That was her friends' opinion anyway and up to this point, she had never had reason to disagree with them. Other than to nurse her so wounded pride, of course.

She led a pretty regular life all things considered. Even with all the difficulties her situation presented, she tried to live by routine and simplicity and, had she known beforehand, she would have stayed home that morning. Or at least that was what she liked to tell herself.

She abhorred sudden changes of plans, especially if they came with a white skull balaclava and shiny revolvers.

She couldn't help but feel like she should have known better. Really. She should have known that something would happen. She could have read the remnants of her coffee, could have seen it in the stars last night, or some bullshit like that.

It was ridiculous, of course, no one in their right mind would ever assume they'd walk straight into a robbery.

She gritted her teeth, more annoyed than scared if she were being honest. After all, she didn't have anything to lose, did she?  
She'd been wrong.

-*v*-

She had been ready to go. Ready to go back to the shithole she would have to call home for some more time. They had refused her, of course. Even if she had demanded only half of the money she would need to afford a comfortable apartment. Even if she had been willing to sacrifice most of her things.

She shouldn't have even tried, she thought with a sad smile gracing her lips. She was never good at dealing with disappointment. It ate away at her, made her regret every single decision she ever took until she was left with a headache and little to no motivation.

She had wanted to leave the bank as fast as she could, spitefully not even shaking the counsellor's hand when he offered it. She was angry, sad and she wanted to indulge in some ice cream. Wallow in her bad feeling for a bit, perhaps take a hot bath. Some wine, even if it was cheap it still did the job.

It happened then. As she was heading for the main door, there was a loud bang and then a minor explosion on her left. She ducked down immediately, with an agility she didn't even know she possessed and she hoped that whatever debris flew around didn't come anywhere near her. The last thing she needed was to get injured and taken to the hospital, she had a class to teach, thank you very much.

Then the shouts started and so the panic rose. She didn't exactly know what to do, where to go, if she should even move at all.

She stayed on the ground, unmoving, senses on alert to try and capture exactly what was happening around her. She tried to control her breathing, gone erratic with the adrenaline spike, and she realised at that moment that there was a hand grasping her shoulder.

"Move to the wall!" a voice above her shouted, commanded.

She didn't need to be told twice, not even looking back at the man that had barked the order, she moved briskly to the wall and sat there, her back to the white stone as she hugged her legs and threw her head in between her knees.

She was wallowing in despair, in fear, for some long minutes as she heard commands flying into the air, vaults being opened, money being stolen. Thoughts of how she never had wanted so much to go back to her shitty home plaguing her mind. What a damned day, she thought then, coming back to herself. She wrinkled her nose as another thought crossed her mind. How easy it would be to just rob banks instead of asking loans, she snickered under her breath. Honestly, she should have thought about that sooner. She momentarily forgot her situation as images of her with a mask and baseball bat flooded her mind. She supposed that would go down nicely, after all, she already knew she had a mean right hook. Malfoy's left eye could attest to that.

And then, perhaps in an act of defiance, perhaps because she thought it couldn't really hurt that much, she had a good look at the robbers and all her brief amusement was forgotten as she fought to stifle a scream, eyes widening in shock.

-*v*-

She didn't need to guess, didn't even have the time to ponder different options. The realisation smacked her hard in the face, her hands shook and she had to swallow hard around the newly-formed lump in her throat.

She knew perfectly well. After all, they'd been subject of her studies for months, years if she wanted to be correct. She internally scoffed at the absurdity of it all.

Even with the mask, everyone that had been following the news the past times knew exactly who they were. It was impossible to miss and they certainly didn't want you to mistake them for someone else. They stood tall and proud - as if they didn't have any fear in the world -, masks firmly lodged into their faces, their weapon of choice at the ready, sleeves always rolled up to reveal the skull and serpent tattoo everywhere they went.

They were called the Death Eaters, a criminal organisation so powerful people dreaded crossing their path most ardently. The fear was fuelled by their unbiased use of violence and coercion. They could have you regret your entire life with just a single look. They treated death like it was their most faithful servant. A confidant. A solution to all that was against them. The most powerful ally in their band of castaways.

And yet, in the times they had operated there were never accidental deaths. If you took the time to investigate quite enough, to ask the right questions of the right people, you would find there was always a motive.

Their actions were always brought forth for some reason or the other. Sometimes they made sense to the general public that had the ability to empathise with them, sometimes they didn't make sense at all. You could unmistakenly deduce that those people had it coming, one way or the other. All throughout her studies, she had examined every single case thoroughly, for days, but in the end, she realised she couldn't pick a side. As morally wrong as she found it, she had mixed feelings.

After all, they fought in the name of the ones like her, of the ones that couldn't rebel because they couldn't afford to lose even whatever little they had and she respected it. Not that she would ever admit it out loud.

Her biggest moral dilemma was standing in front of her, a bit off to the right. Even with the mask, there was no denying it was him.

Tom Marvolo Riddle. The boss. One of the most dangerous men to walk this planet. A walking mine, manipulator, king of all tortures.  
Or at least, that was what the tabloids reported of him.

She knew better, she didn't believe him innocent, of course, but she knew his history deeper, she had uncovered his secrets almost by accident. He had been an orphan, left alone in a world where you either learned how to swim fast or you were eaten alive by the bigger sharks.

He had learned, he had kept himself alive for the better part of 28 years. She supposed she couldn't really judge him, even during her worst she still had something - some small stack of money her parents had hidden under the kitchens' cupboard, some gold - her grandmother had given her - to sell, some babysitting job she could occasionally pick up.  
She had always managed, in some way or the other.  
He, on the other hand, had created a gold mine from ground stone and she couldn't help but be fascinated by him.

She turned her head away, eyes planted on the ground, mind and heart racing alike. She was behaving like a school girl with a crush. Stop being an idiot Hermione, she mentally smacked herself. This was bad. This was seriously unmistakenly horribly bad.

-*v*-

Her resolve didn't last very long. She briefly realised they were draining the bank of all the money it had ever seen, and there still wasn't any police car approaching. Outside the world sounded as quiet as ever. She supposed they weren't coming at all. She estimated ten minutes had passed already and they were still inside the bank, huge gym bags being filled with so much money she thought it would take days to count them all.

She stilled when a feeling passed all over her body. She was looking at one of the men as he lifted the money and threw them unceremoniously into a bag. She didn't look away, even when the feeling intensified, the hair at the back of her neck rising to attention, and she was certain someone was watching her. He was watching her. She swallowed hard, wondering why she had caught his attention, wondering what did it mean that she had caught his attention.

Perhaps it was the way she refused to keep her head down and pray it would all end as soon as possible. Maybe it was because she didn't have any urge to sniffle like a scared kitten like the obnoxious woman next to her. Or was it the genuine curiosity filling her eyes?

Her damned body moved on its own accord, and the next thing she knew she was looking directly into a bone-white mask.

Despite the fact that she'd been expecting it, she still shuddered when between the slits of the mask she could see his eyes were firmly settled on her.

-*v*-

The more she tried to understand, the less it made sense to her.  
One second she was sat against a wall, her attentive gaze being stolen by two black orbs. The next, that same man, had barked an order she couldn't quite catch from her position and she was being lifted by two strong arms and dragged somewhere else.

Whoever was sitting next to her had started screaming, crying even harder, the uncertainty of their fate nothing compared to what they thought would happen to her now.

The way he was holding her, she couldn't quite twist her head and see her captor's face, so she tried to swallow the wave of panic and kept her eyes firmly on Riddle. His gaze never left her and she knew it was still there even when a blindfold was placed around her head and she could see no more.

-*v*-

She was sitting somewhere else. Her hands not too loosely bound behind her back. She was in some kind of car seat, weirdly arranged. She thought it must be some kind of van, or something similar. From what she could hear, there was only one window open. It must have been only a few centimetres, enough to let fresh air in.

For a brief second, she thought about screaming, about banging on the insides of the car until someone came and rescued her, but even as the plan worked its way into her head she had to discard it. She was certain there was someone just outside. Someone watching over her every move.

Tom Riddle didn't just let his hostages escape.

She could bide her time, she needed a more solid plan.

She could bring herself to ponder the why. The reason he had to go and kidnap her, a decision out of his schemes, undoubtedly. She couldn't think about it because the more she approached the thought, the more her fear doubled over and she couldn't let it. She couldn't lose herself, not now that she needed her sharp mind the most.

-*v*-

It felt like ages - impossibly long minutes - before the van's doors were brusquely opened and the seats next to her, all around her, were occupied by the gang.

Nobody spoke, and it unnerved her, but she had already promised herself she wouldn't be the first. She wouldn't ask, wouldn't plead. Wouldn't beg.

It was a good thing panic was eating her up inside, closing her vocal cords more effectively than her stubbornness could ever have dared her to.

The engine started and she almost jumped at the grating noise, she gritted her teeth together to keep her composure. Oh, hell.

She felt a lone tear gather at the corner of her eye and for a brief second, she was grateful for the blindfold, as it absorbed the tiny drop and didn't let it spill down her cheeks.

-*v*-

The car ride wasn't as long as she expected it to be. She had thought they were heading South perhaps, where reporters had multiple times appointed the gang's safe-houses.

She was wrong, once again.

We must still be in the city, that's good, she thought as the car was parched and one by one they climbed down. She sat there with her spine straight, ready to pick up anything that could be useful in her escape. Nothing. The park seemed deserted, and she couldn't smell anything particular in the air. Where the hell were they?

She couldn't get an answer to her question before they led her out of the parking lot and inside what she supposed was an elevator.

The ride up was once again silent, and for a second she wondered how they could hide their excitement for a well-done robbery so thoroughly.

Were they even satisfied? She almost scoffed out loud. They were undoubtedly rich, with all the banks they had raided in the past year they just had to be, they probably didn't think a couple more millions made any difference. It was ridiculous.

It happened quite suddenly, as they were leading her into some kind of apartment, she was spun around, sat into a chair and her blindfold was removed swiftly.

She saw the others leave the room with the bags, masks still in place as if she couldn't name them all. As if her being there was part of the same plan that had brought them to the bank.

"I've been waiting to meet you."

She had imagined their first encounter countless times.  
Even with a little twinge of embarrassment she had never refused to admit that she wanted a peek into his mind, she wanted to pick him apart and analyse everything he did. She had imagined hours of gleeful conversations, exchanges of opinions.

Obviously, none of them had been like this, with her half bound in her seat and him holding all the power.

Still, she dared not move from the chair, even when he moved closer.  
She watched him warily as he paced in front of her, slowly, and pondered his words, surely that meant trouble for her.

But then, why hadn't he acted sooner? He could have easily snatched her whilst she was on her way to work. When she was grocery shopping. When she was peacefully sleeping.

She kept on studying him, and she came to the ugly conclusion that he was actually trying to think about what he should do with her now.

Attempting to save her own skin she tried to reason with him, "I haven't done anything to you." And it was true, after all, she really did lead a simple life. She was no-one and because of that, she didn't have any power to anger someone like him.

"You ask too many questions," was his only response and at that, she almost laughed.

Of course, demanding answers was probably the thing she did best. She had quite a knack for it, really, and it constituted grand part of her job. She couldn't be misinformed, on any occasion.

Alas, words failed her this time and she couldn't properly believe he was actually thinking about offing her, just because she had asked a few questions.

He saw her mouthing like a fish, helplessly, and he smirked, even at that moment so handsome she barely suppressed the little whimper that was crawling up her throat.

"Perhaps," he said then, what she would have called a playful smile tugging his lips, "there is something I can do with you."

-*v*-

Tom lifted a hand and she watched it warily until it landed on the silky strap of her bra.

He hooked his finger around it and slowly dragged it down. She tried to stifle a gasp of surprise when a shiver travelled all the way down her body, to her tiptoes.

She could never understand how just a simple touch could ignite in her such strong feelings.

He lowered her bra over her stomach, exposing her breasts and for a brief second, she had the urge to cover herself. She had never felt so scrutinised before. The feeling vanished as she saw him smirk, slowly, clearly liking what he was seeing. With just a look, he made her feel sexy, wanted to a point nobody else ever had.

With the same calm movements, he brought his fingers to her left nipple and tweaked it, at first gently and then more forcefully as her back arched and she pushed herself into the touch.

It hurt, but the sparks travelling her body, making heat pool at the apex of her thighs, were so welcomed she couldn't bring herself to ask him to stop.

With hooded eyes she looked at him coming even closer, bending his head to kiss her cheek. Then, closing her eyes, she felt his kisses follow an invisible path down the column of her throat, down to where his fingers were still making her skin sing.

She moaned. The sound more wanton that she ever dared admit, but she couldn't find shame in that. She loved every single feeling he was gifting her. She smiled, thinking of all the things he still had to give her. She wanted all of him, all of him for herself.

The moment his lips - and teeth - touched her nipple she swore she saw stars behind her eyelids. She growled softly and her hands burrowed themselves into his mane of black hair almost of their own accord.

She twisted them in her grasp, tugging at his locks and he inhaled sharply and for retaliation, he spanked her on the butt. She screamed, surprised and then giggled when she realised that even that had felt quite good.

She supposed she could just take anything this man wanted to give her.

He led her to the foot of the bed, slowly, guiding her steps one by one, as he kept on kissing her and touching her everywhere he could reach. It was maddening.

As the back of her knees reached the mattress she let herself fall, hair spread like a halo and arms open, inviting him in her embrace with a Cheshire cat smile on her lips.

From her perspective, he looked like a god, jet black hair tousled, his eyes were swimming with desire and his lips were swollen and inviting. His chest was heaving slightly, there was an unmistaken bulge in his trousers. Desire kept flooding her body and she was quite sure she had never felt so desperate for anybody. She wanted him out of his clothes, fast.

He smirked devilishly, having followed her burning eyes down his body and taking the hem of his own t-shirt he swiftly removed it and then crawled on top of her.

"You look so good like this, on my bed," he whispered, his words caressing her body like velvet, she moaned breathily.

At that, he seemed to pick up the pace, the want and need too great now to keep things slow.  
Hooking his fingers on the waistband of her trousers he removed them and then stopped to admire her cotton knickers as if they were the sexiest thing in the world.

"Is that for me?" she laughed, it could have easily been so.

It was at that moment that she realised she was probably soaked through, wet as she'd never been before, and she loved it. She loved the way his gaze turned even darker, the way his hands traced the hem of her underwear slowly, she loved the promise of pleasure beyond imagination.

He opened her legs even wider, shifting down her body so that her womanhood was right in his face, his hands caressed her thighs gently, then he sunk his nails into the skin, dragging them up and down, creating a pattern of pleasure and pain that almost drove her mad.

Starting at her bent knees, they travelled higher and higher until they, finally, reached her knickers again. She felt him kiss the spot where thighs met hip and then his thumb gently caressed the hot - and wet, so fucking wet - spot between her legs. She moaned, loudly, hips shifting of their own accord, silently begging for more.

He huffed a laugh into her hip, biting the skin roughly and then he slapped her between her legs, hitting her engorged clit. She screamed, the pleasure so high and unexpected her vision turned a little bit black around the edges.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," it was almost as if she was about to come, and he had barely done anything at all.

He didn't stop, though she felt his satisfied smile on her skin, and he removed her knickers in one motion, throwing them in the middle of the room and proceeded to tease her with kisses all around her slit, never granting her the mercy she was so graciously begging for.

She was going mad, his butterfly-like kisses so sweet she wanted to twist a hand into his hair and make him suck her clit hard and suffocate on her -

He took her back from her own thought with a pinch on the bum and a nice and long lick up her slit. She rotated her hips, momentarily satisfied but wishing for more, so much more.

In the end, he had mercy. He dove on her pussy and started eating her out like she was his last meal, paying extra attention to her clit, hands digging into her thighs to keep them spread wide.

He felt heavenly and she was sure she was going to lose her voice by moaning too much.

He didn't seem to need to breathe, even, and her pleasure was mounting fast she was sure she'd need just a little push, a little something, "please," she chanted like a prayer.

When two fingers penetrated her, she couldn't hold back any more and she came all over him, toenails curling with unmitigated satisfaction.

"So beautiful," he said almost breathlessly, kissing a wet trail up her stomach, on her breasts, coming up to kiss her on the mouth. She tasted herself on him, it was exhilarating.

With renewed passion, she found the strength to twist them on the bed and ended up on top of him. He grinned as she made her way down his chest, kissing his skin all the while and biting on the softer spots. He twisted a hand on her hair and tugged, but she didn't pay it any mind.

As she reached the waistband of his jeans she resolved to tease him as he had her, kissing wetly all along the hem, slowly unbuttoning it but not taking them off.

"No, you don't little one," he commanded, having caught up with her intention and he gripped her hair tightly, twisting her head so she could look up at him.

"Suck my cock," he said, voice gentle but firm as if he was trying to coax her into it - as if she needed any convincing.

She huffed, a little bit annoyed by his antics but also so turned on she practically forgot he deserved a little bit of retaliation for teasing her before.

Taking off his trousers, she was pleasantly surprised to see that he wasn't wearing any underwear and the second he was gloriously naked under her she couldn't help but stop and stare at him. He was honestly the most gorgeous man she had ever seen.

She couldn't help herself then but gaze at his hard manhood. He laid still, waiting for her to resume her action and she couldn't help but lick her lips in anticipation.

Long enough to be already satisfying and thick enough to make her mouth water with just the sight, he was ultimately packing a ticket to pleasure island, all-inclusive.

"If I'd known, I would have tried to get kidnapped by you sooner," she joked and he laughed heartily at that.

Quite unsure she could wait any longer, she shifted more comfortably on top of him and took him into her hands. Gripping him tight enough to feel good, she twisted her hand up and down, smearing the precome that had gathered at the tip all the way down his length.

He grunted, low, and that alone was enough to push her to take more. To give him more.

Balancing her weight on her elbows, she licked a long stripe up his cock, closing her eyes at the flavour of him.

She kept on sucking him, paying special attention to the head, loving the way he growled and bucked up his hips into her mouth.

She felt him throbbing in her mouth, his own orgasm mounting.

Before she could up her game he lifted her off his cock and gripped her arms to lift her up against his body. They kissed each other, slowly, almost as if they were making love to each other.

He shifted them again and she ended up on her back, his whole body against her own.

It was difficult to put the moment he entered her into words.

He fucked her with abandon, eyes closed and forehead firmly pressed against her own.  
They came close together, hands gripping each others tightly and the absurd sensation that the whole world had stopped to let them have this moment.

Beautiful and unsurpassed, she wanted it to last forever.  
She smiled at him, eyes full of an emotion she didn't want to name just yet, he caressed her cheek, eyes mirroring her own.

-*v*-

"I still can't believe you did that," she laughed.

Tom smiled, genuine and beautiful, hands travelling lovingly down her back.

"What can I say? I am a criminal after all."

It had been a nice plan. Faking the kidnapping, taking her away without any apparent reason.

Now she was free, free of the boundaries of the good world.

As she laid in the arms of the big bad wolf she realised, happily, that she was finally done living life like a good girl. She was ready to twist her tale as she preferred, though this time, she wanted to burn the rulebook first.

-*v*-

The next day million of journal copies with her picture on the front page flooded the city.

Hermione and Tom laughed reading the article, exceptionally hard when they painted her as a 'clueless, do-good, girl' so 'poor and inconsequential' they didn't have a clue as to why the infamous Death Eaters would want anything with her.

Tom was overall pleased, they literally had no idea what was coming their way.


End file.
